


Who Needs To Talk

by Desdimonda



Category: Naruto, Naruto Shippuden
Genre: ANBU Kakashi, ANBU Obito, Drabble, Drunk Obito, First Kiss, Flirty Kakashi, Flirty Obito, Fluff, Happy cute boys, KakaObi Week 2019, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 07:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17659016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: The boys are in ANBU. Everything is okay. They don’t know how to talk or flirt. Obito doesn’t know how to gamble.A small drabble to go with my day 3 art for KakaObiWeek 2019 <3





	Who Needs To Talk

"I'm not lending you anymore money," says Kakashi as Obito hangs down from the branch above. He hadn't been there a second ago - or Kakashi at least hadn't noticed him. He was getting better.

"What, that's not- wait what? Why?!" He pushes his mask up and over, ruffling his short black hair.

Kakashi lets him stew for a little longer, watching the twists and turns on his face as he mouths silent words, as his eye flicks left, flicks right, the red turning on, involuntarily.

It often does when his emotions stir, even when he tightens a chain around his heart, trying to encase and close. His eye, betrays. His eye, gave.

Kakashi knew his worked the same. But he had the blessing - and necessity - of covering it over, disguising those times when his own chains, rusted and raked, began to break.

They only ever began to break around Obito. He often wondered if he knew.

"You still haven't paid up from last game," says Kakashi, heavy lidded as a distracting laugh, a gesture, a smile, forms across Obito's face. "I don't remember a worse loser since sensei."

"Well I had to learn _something_ from him, Bakashi. What did _you_ learn?" He taps his mask with a click, smirking when he notices the slant of his eye. A smile. 

"Do you have the rest of the day free to take notes?"

He tugs down Kakashi's mask.

"Wrong way, idiot."

"Oh yeah?" Obito pulls it up, balancing it on top of his spiky, grey hair, watching, feeling the soft threads flatten and splay beneath his touch.

"It learns. I never thought possible."

“I’ll pull this thing off if you don’t shut it,” he threatens. But Kakashi remains there steady, calm, the slant of his eye persisting. 

“Is that all you’ll pull off?”

Obito’s lips part. Oh. _Oh._

Maybe its time he drops off the branch, now. His face feels flushed from the blood pooling at his head. Right.

“I’ll uh- get that money for you tonight,” Obito says, tapping Kakashi’s mask again.

“That it?”

“That it?” says Obito, back.

Kakashi reaches up and pushes a shock of black hair out from his eye patch, caught in the tight elastic. Obito’s hand moves, hovering an inch beside Kakashi’s. “You said you weren’t here to borrow money. What do you want?”

Obito bites his lip, teeth running over the deep indent there. He knows Kakashi stares there a lot. Does he wonder what it feels like? Tastes like? Are his lips cold, or warm, blanketed beneath that mask. The mole at the slide of his jaw is small, but big enough, the gentlest of bumps pushing through the fabric. But Obito is sure he’s the only one that can see. 

He touched it once. 

 

“ _Kakashi! Kashi. Baka-Kakash....shiiiiiiiii!” The words a song, slurred on his flushed lips as he stumbled onto the sofa, heavy limbs seeming to spread out each and every way around Kakashi who was sat quietly by himself, leg up, beer in hand, book in the other._

_“Enjoying yourself?” He flicks a page. Obito leans close against his side, smelling of beer, of cinnamon somehow, and the leather of his new patch. He flicks another page. He **was** reading. Now, that is an impossibility.   
_

_Obito gives Kakashi a goofy smile, his eye ruby red. He reaches up with a single finger, drawing it lightly against the slide of his jaw. He pauses as he touches his mole._

_“I am now.”  
_

 

The next thing he remembered after that was waking up on Kakashi’s floor, shoes off, head propped on a cushion, draped in a blanket. 

They never talked about that night. They never, talked.

Obito dropped down from the branch, landing smoothly on his feet. 

“I wanted-”

He pauses, just about to talk. But why break a habit?

 _“_ I wanted to do this.”

With a hand, he reaches out slowly and pulls down the soft material that masks his skin, his lips, his perfect, circular mole. 

He touches it again, and Kakashi remembers.

He touches it again, and kisses.

Their masks hit together, clicking. Their bodies meet, moulding. Their hands touch, twisting, tangling, fingers finding their place. Their lips slip, and slide, wet by tongues, and parted by smiles.

His lips are cold.


End file.
